


But if You'll Really Hold Me Tight (All the Way Home I'll Be Warm)

by Draco_sollicitus



Series: 25 Days of Damerey [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 25 Days of Damerey, Christmas Eve, Draco's Damerey December, Emergency room, F/M, Firefighter AU, Firefighter Poe Dameron, Flirting, Fluff, Modern Universe, hospital au, meet cute, nurse rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Rey Smith, a well-trained nurse, does not need any nonsense in her ER on Christmas Eve. Especially if said nonsense arrives in the form of a very handsome, wounded firefighter fresh from saving multiple lives.





	But if You'll Really Hold Me Tight (All the Way Home I'll Be Warm)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Character A and Character B meet in the ER on Christmas Eve.
> 
>  
> 
> (AKA I start publishing that firefighter AU I've been hiding on my flash drive for four months)

Rey walks the length of the emergency department, her back still slightly twinging from the vicious strike her long-time sparring partner, Ben, had been able to land on her at practice the other day. She checks in on Mrs. Griffith in bed ten - a sweet old widow who had taken a nasty spill down the stairs - and finds that she’s now swarmed by grandchildren, most of whom are wearing festive sweaters or hats. A couple adults smile guility at Rey, who merely shoos some of the smaller children out of the way so she can check and record Mrs. Griffith’s vitals.

“Thank you dear,” Mrs. Griffith says, still a little groggy from the pain medication Dr. Skywalker had prescribed her. Rey checks her IV port as well, and records that the patient was able to respond to questions accurately. “Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

“No.” Rey shakes her head and remembers to smile, her feet aching enough to match her back. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Mrs. Griffith pats her hand as Rey tests her side for any sign of abdominal swelling, and Rey’s smile becomes more genuine. “I’ll be around later to check back in with you, but I have a feeling they’ll be moving you soon. You’re doing great.”

“Thank you.” A relieved middle-aged man says, two children hanging off of his arms. “We’d like to be able to spend part of the holiday at home.”

“Of course.” Rey answers without a hint of bitterness - well practiced by now - and leaves the room after clicking save on the patient’s file. 

With her tablet under her arm, she heads towards triage. Mrs. Griffith is her only patient right now, the ER oddly quiet for Christmas Eve.

No siblings stabbing each other this year - and hadn’t that been an adventurous way to end 2017, over at Jakku Central, Rey’s last job - and no drunk drivers, no misplaced holiday items in rectums. Just a very, odd, silent night. 

Then again, it’s only 9:30, and Rey has too little faith in humanity not to expect the worse, and soon.

There’s a bus arriving, and Dr. Skywalker directs her to wait while he goes out to retrieve the patient; and Rey fidgets with the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt she wears under her blue scrubs. A familiar face comes striding through the automatic doors not long after.

“Peanut!” Finn Storm, her good friend (her only friend, if she were being honest, unless you counted Ben, who she didn’t count as a friend, considering their friendship involved viciously smacking at each other using wooden weaponry twice a week), sweeps in with his arms outstretched. “I’ve got a good one for you!”

“The last time you said that, I got two patients attached by a metal pole,” Rey reminds him, poking him in the firm stomach. Finn giggles and pats at the place she poked, his wedding ring glinting in the light. “And they were screaming at each other because one had won a beauty pageant and the other had lost. I don’t like your definition of good.”

“Oh!” Finn pretends to clutch his heart in agony. “You’ve only known me for three months, and already, you think you know me.” Rey tucks her tablet under her arm so she can pop her other hand on her hip, in order to maximize the effect of her glare. “But seriously.” His grin turns a little wicked. “Merry Christmas.”

“What are you-” Before she can finish her question, Dr. Skywalker walks in, surrounded by a team of his medical interns, helping to push the cot. All of the interns are staring at the person on the Ferno IN/X, and one even stumbles on the lip of the door as they push the cot through, a sight at which Rey raises her eyebrows. 

Then, she sees the person on the cot, and she has to physically stop her jaw from dropping.

The most handsome man she’s ever seen in person is lying on the stretcher. His black hair curls around a face that looks like it belongs in a movie; scruff adorns a jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and he’s grinning while arguing animatedly with Dr. Skywalker.

“Look, Doc,” - and that’s annoying, even his voice is pleasant - “I really appreciate it, I do, but I’m  _ fine _ -” He stops his argument to cough heartily, and Rey frowns at the sound of his cough. It’s ragged, and the sound of it suggests his lungs are legitimately struggling to pull air. Then, she notices the blue t-shirt that says HPFD, tucked into thick pants, and the dusty, dirty boots, as well as the general odor of ozone. 

_ Oh, Lord above, he’s a firefighter,  _ some part of her brain (the one that pauses at the Harlequin novels at the airport and to think  _ oh, that could be nice _ ) whispers in a much too over-sexed voice. Or really, under-sexed. 

While the unrepentant daydreamer inside of her starts to fan herself furiously while lounging on a chaise, Rey stands strong, her tablet back in her hands as the cot rolls up to her. Dr. Skywalker is encouraging the firefighter to stay put - it sounds like they know each other - when the man looks up and sees her.

Immediately, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps shut; just as quickly, a smirk firms, and he settles back a bit more on the Ferno. “You know what? Maybe I don’t mind getting checked out.” 

“Oh, Jesus.” Rey can’t stop her knee-jerk disdain from leaking out because  _ seriously,  _ that’s what he comes up with? His smirk only seems to deepen, and Rey sighs and shakes her head. Then, she realizes the interns aren’t moving forward, and Skywalker’s already heading off to greet the next bus. “Well? Aren’t you going to take him to triage?” She snaps at the crowd of interns who are all at least a year older than her, but who are greener than a blade of grass. “Go!” 

“I’ll see you later then?” The firefighter asks dreamily, as he tilts his head back on the cot’s head support to gaze at her as he rolls by. Rey snorts and turns to Finn with her eyebrow seemingly permanently lifted.

“Well?” She demands of the EMT, whose face has settled into ‘I wanna get murdered for being so smug’ territory. “Is this what you mean by good one?”

“Just give it time, Peanut.” Finn claps her on the arm before heading for the doors, his radio crackling to life on his hip. “He’s the best one.” Finn doesn’t even give her time to respond, turning around to shout, “And Rosie says come by after your shift if you want leftovers! Merry Christmas!”

“Bah Humbug.” Rey sticks her tongue out at her friend and heads towards triage. 

It’s still pretty quiet - Dr. Skywalker had apparently ordered the patient from the other ambulance directly to surgery - so she has no choice but to check in with the handsome firefighter. She gathers from the one intern who isn’t fawning too terribly that he’d been on a call for a fire - a three story house that had succumbed to a blaze caused by misplaced candles - and helped to rescue three children. He hadn’t landed here because of  _ that  _ though; no, no, Mr. Firefighter had gone back in for  _ their damn kitten.  _

Rey shakes her head in disbelief (is this guy even real?) and heads over to his bed. A couple interns are lingering at his side, taking up his attention, so she goes unnoticed at first. She stands next to his bed and examines him in a cursory way before opening a new patient file on her tablet.

“Name?”

“Poe.” She looks up to see him smiling at her  _ in that way _ . “Poe Dameron. Nice to see you again.”

“How would you rate your pain?” Rey keeps her voice disinterested because she is a professional, damnit. “0 being no pain, and 10 being excruciating pain?”

“I’m not feeling too much pain right now.” He has the gall to smirk again, and he even flutters his (unfairly long) eyelashes at her, settling back into his propped-up pillows. “Feelin’ pretty good, actually.”

Rey holds her tablet in front of her middle and glares at him. “Don’t make this more difficult than it should be. I assume you’re here for a reason. How much pain are you in?”

Poe sighs and thinks about it. “Enough to notice, I guess? Worse, you know, here.” He lifts his arm and gestures at the bright red skin of a burn on his forearm. 

“Hmm.” Rey frowns and sets her tablet aside to examine him. She takes his blood pressure and records his heart rate (steadfastly ignoring his comment that “ _ it’s gonna be higher right now because...well… _ ” no matter how much he winks), and listens to his heart and lungs carefully, carefully, carefully. She checks his airway, but doesn’t see any signs of soot, and makes a note in his chart. 

“A doctor should be by soon to make sure everything’s alright,” Rey says, typing quickly into the tablet. She looks up to find Poe staring at her. “Is there anything else you’d like to report? Any symptoms, any pain, any injuries besides the burns?” There’d been another on the back of his hand. 

“Well.” Poe lifts his shirt without warning, and Rey sees the definite cut of what most romance novels would describe as  _ washboard abs.  _ “I mean, my final rescue did kinda get me.”

There are three bright red lines, welling blood, near his collarbone. Rey squints at them and then snorts. “The kitten got you?” She clarifies.

“Yes it did,” Poe says cheerfully, making no effort to drop his shirt. Rey straightens up and maintains her cool expression. “What do you recommend? For treatment?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor.” Rey sees a nervous intern (one of the better ones, thankfully) approaching with Skywalker. “But I recommend maybe pulling your collar down next time, considering the placement of the injury.”

“Fair enough.” Poe doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest as he drops his shirt. He does, however, have the audacity to pout at her when she walks away from the bed. “Aw, man, I’ll stop making jokes, I promise.”

“I’ll be back.” Rey feels stupid, immediately, for reassuring him. But then again, making patients comfortable is a major part of her job. “To check on you, of course.” She drums her fingers nervously on the back of her tablet, feeling silly.

“I’ll be eagerly waiting.” Poe smiles at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly, and Rey has to breathe slowly in through her nose, and out through her mouth while she excuses herself to the restroom so she can calm down.

The next time she finds herself at Poe’s bedside, he turns up the charm about a thousand percent, something she didn’t think possible. He’s been checked in for almost an hour now, and the doctors’ diagnosis matched Rey’s instinct - minor cough from smoke inhalation (observation recommended for a few hours), second degree burns, and some nasty bruises. She’s a little more exhausted now; it’s almost eleven p.m., and the idiocy is starting to roll in.

Rey and the other nurses are going to have their work cut out for them tonight - after working with a patient who had a wreath crammed over their head (and the nails from said wreath crammed  _ into  _ their head), she welcomes the distraction of the flirty firefighter in bed four. He’s been moved off to the side in the emergency department, and once she steps into the room, he perks up noticeably, his half-smile firmly back in place.

She runs through her routine check of his vitals, and her questions, but once she’s done and typing up her notes of the interaction, Poe strikes. 

“What’s your name, bright eyes?” 

Rey shoots him a look, her lip curling on instinct, her natural distrust taking over at the sound of such an endearing nickname. After all, she’s done nothing to endear herself to him; that must mean he wants something. “Rey.”

“No, no, your full name.” He leans back against his pillows and gives her what could easily be described as puppy-dog eyes. “It’s only fair seeing as you know mine.” 

Rey rolls her eyes mightily, and his grin doesn’t shift, the annoying bastard. “Like I said, it’s Rey.”

“Just Rey?”

“Just Rey.”

He tilts his head and squints at her badge, and Rey resists the urge to swat him (he  _ did  _ save three people’s lives tonight, and he  _ did  _ go back for their cat, so she shouldn’t be smacking a hero, annoying or not). 

“Rey Smith.” He grins at her like he’s done something clever.

“Good.” Rey taps her tablet with more force than necessary. “I put it in your notes that you can still read.”

“Yep.” There’s zero shame there. “Doc cleared me of any potential concussion. I’m right as rain.”

“Mhm.” Rey yelps when Poe tries to get off the bed. She plants her hand on his sternum and pushes as firmly as she can without causing him injury. “What are you doing?”

“I’m fine!” Poe says adamantly. “Seriously! I don’t want to take up one of your beds when someone else might need them more.”

“Nuh-uh.” Rey squares her jaw and glares at him sternly. “Dr. Skywalker said you were not to be released for at least three hours. Sorry, Fire Lord.” Her cheeks flame brightly at that - she’s giving him  _ nicknames?  _ All because he gave her one? Oh God, this is so bad.

Poe stares at her in shock, and then his face splits into an ear-to-ear grin. “Oh my  _ God.  _ You’re a nerd, aren’t you?” Rey huffs but doesn’t answer him, determined to finish her notes and get out of here. “One question though - do you think I’m Ozai or Zuko?”

“Neither.” He tries to get up again, and Rey shoves him back down just as firmly as before. “I can do this all night.”

“I’d love that.” She has no doubt that he would, actually. Poe suddenly does look guilty, his face falling almost comically. “Crap, I’m probably ruining your night, aren’t I?”

“Repentance?” Rey cocks her head at him. “Fascinating.”

“No, no, I mean it. It’s Christmas, and I’m being an ass.” His smile is sweeter now, softer, and all the more dangerous for it. “What are you doing for Christmas, Rey?”

It’s probably the most genuine he’s been since he rolled in here, but Rey finds her well of anger running over, and what’s worse is that she knows it isn’t even his fault. “Working.” She gestures to the bed he’s lying on and then out into the hallway. “Obviously.”

“Right, right.” Poe’s fingers fidget in his lap. “No plans for after?”

“Sleeping.” Rey folds her arms in front of her chest protectively. She has no idea why he’s still talking to her - and yeah, she checked the chart, Skywalker  _ did  _ rule out concussion - so she’ll stick with one word answers, be as short as possible, until he realizes that she’s not the kind of person that dashingly handsome, heroic firefighters flirt with. 

“Ah. Well, if you wanted to do something, I’m sure my squad would love to have you. We have a dinner on Christmas, around 2:00 am usually, and they’d definitely be interested in thanking you for takin’ care of me so well, and-”

“No.” Rey stops him in his track and pretends that she doesn’t need a pain scale when she sees disappointment flash across his face. “...Thank you.”

She walks away at that, not even promising to be back over, and she tries not to think about why she rejected him so out of hand. She doesn’t have to think that hard about it, to be honest. 

Poe Dameron had been kind to offer her an invitation, but Rey knows that kindness is all too often a bedfellow of pity, and she’s had that too frequently for Christmas dinner in her sad life. No, best to let him down now before he realizes what a mess she is, how much she probably actually does inspire pity in people, before he learns about her past, and the ghosts that linger into the presents. And unlike Scrooge, Rey’s ghosts don’t promise to go away when the last bell chimes on Christmas.

Still, she’s wracked with guilt, mostly due to the crestfallen expression he’d worn when she turned him down. So, when she checks back in with him, an hour before he can be cleared, she tries her best to make it up.

But, Poe surprises her as soon as she walks in. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words are out of his mouth before she’s even fully through the door. Rey blinks in confusion and stares at him. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He licks his full bottom lip slowly, and Rey pretends that isn’t distracting, that it doesn’t cause a spike of something that doesn’t feel like hunger (but also  _ does _ ) in her gut. “I’m sorry I was flirting with you so terribly. It, uh, it wasn’t appropriate. It wasn’t even my best game” - he says this part almost defensively, his fingers tangled in his curls in a way that shouldn’t be so endearing - “but it shouldn’t have happened at all. I know nurses deal with a lot of harassment, I see it a lot when I bring patients in, and I shouldn’t have added to it. I’m real sorry.”

“I only said no because I work ‘til six,” Rey blurts out, and she wants to clap her hand over her mouth. It isn’t even  _ true  _ \- she also said no because she has commitment issues as wide as a galaxy, and is desperately afraid of how kindness can break a person, but here she is, lying her face off to a man with a stupidly handsome face. Poe blinks, but his smile creeps back into place.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I … I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just tired, so I’m the one who’s sorry.” She holds her tablet in front of her like a shield, and then launches into her examination. Poe, blessedly, remains quiet for most of it, only answering questions when prompted, and thanking her sweetly when she gets him more water. 

Right before she should  _ just walk away and leave,  _ Rey’s tongue gets ahead of her. “...What kind of food will you have?” Her stomach rumbles, her late-night snack in the cafeteria still so far away (but already depressing even in theory), and she looks timidly at Poe. “...at your station’s party?”

“Every kind of food.” His voice sounds different now, a little softer, a little less bedroom-ready, and Rey thinks it sounds even more pleasant than it did before. “Turkey, ham, mashed potatoes.” Rey tries not to groan, but her mouth is filling with saliva. “We all bring something. My partner, Snap - his wife makes the meanest mac and cheese.”

“And what do you bring?” Rey finds it easier to talk about food than anything else, so she thanks the holiday for existing just to make this human interaction easier. 

“Tamales.” She can feel her face light up at the word, and Poe laughs. It’s a good laugh, sounding like it starts in his chest, rasping out through his mouth. His eyes even twinkle a little bit, something she had always sworn was strictly limited to metaphor. “You like tamales, huh?”

Rey bites her lip and nods, feeling her cheeks lift as she smiles. She ducks her head to stare at the floor, feeling heat creep along her neck. “I love them. I grew up in Arizona, and there was a guy there who always gave me some on my way home for school.” She neglects to mention that they were often the only food she consumed all day, and he’d always tried to give them to her for free, but she always insisted on working in his restaurant to earn them. Even at eight, Rey understood how the world worked, and how kindness could be used against a person.

“These are my dad’s recipe.” Poe leans forward, and Rey takes an involuntary step back towards his bed, drawn in somehow. “Best tamales you ever tasted, hands down.”

“I’ll just have to believe that,” Rey laughs. “Lest I insult Mr. Dameron’s tamales.” They do nothing but grin at each other for a second, but then Rey remembers herself. She excuses herself quietly, hurrying out of the room to check on the patient next door, and the whole time she’s questioning herself, and why she chose to share a person detail with a stranger.

Right before Poe checks out, she pops in to help run through his discharge information. He’s pulling a sweatshirt on over his head, a well-fitting grey one with  _ Hosnian Prime Fire Department  _ emblazoned on the front, and Rey steadfastly does not look at the way the large muscles of his biceps look as he lifts his arms over his head. “Do you have any questions?” Rey asks, having run through the litany of warnings typed up by Dr. Skywalker. 

“Yeah.” Poe tilts his head at her and smiles, a real, crinkle-eyed smile. “Can I have your number?”

Rey chokes slightly on her spit, and then all the way, coughing sharply into the crook of her elbow, her face flaming.  _ I’m going to die,  _ she thinks.  _ And if not through lack of oxygen, from mortification. Oh ground, please swallow me whole.  _ Poe lurches up from the bed to assist her, and he fusses slightly like a mother hen as he helps her even her breathing, clearly no stranger to offering help. 

“I’ll take that as a no?” He says bashfully, after he’s handed her a cup of water, and Rey’s breathing has somewhat returned to normal.

Rey snorts at his continued flirtations and grabs a piece of paper from her pocket, scribbling down ten digits. She hands it to Poe, whose face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Fair warning, that’s the number for the hospital,” she says, her voice rasping slightly from her sore throat. “Because I think you’ll probably be needing that one more.”

“That is definitely fair.” Poe pockets the number anyway and grins at her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Rey.” He holds his hand out for her to shake, and Rey tries hard not to look at the clearly defined muscles of his forearm, his nice wrists (and since when were wrists nice? When?), and thick, calloused fingers, as she grabs his hand firmly. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too.” She smiles at him and watches as he walks out the door; he turns at the last second and winks at her through the window, and Rey makes sure he sees her roll her eyes. Then, he’s gone from sight, and Rey starts to strip the bed and begin the process of preparing the room for the next patient. 

When she walks out of the hospital five hours later, bleary-eyed and more than slightly exhausted, she’s met with a very pleasant surprise.

Poe Dameron’s standing in front of a Honda, wearing a coat over his sweatshirt, and a scarf around his neck; in his hands is a tupperware full of what are undeniably tamales. There are circles under his eyes, but his smile is firmly in place. “Breakfast’s on me,” he says holding the tupperware out. “And don’t worry, I’m not here to annoy you. Just want to make sure you get something good to eat after you took care of idiots all night.”

“Are you counting yourself in that figure?” Rey asks curiously.

“I’m the majority of that figure.” Poe smiles wider when she takes the tupperware. “So, I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He clicks the lock on his car and goes to get in, but Rey clears her throat at the last second, staring down at the tamales in her hands. “Poe?” He freezes, half in, half out of his car. “You got paper?”

“Yeah?” Poe pulls the same piece of paper she gave him earlier out of his pocket. 

“Alright.” She rattles off her phone number, trying not to grin as Poe fumbles for a pen to write it down. “You gave me something, after all. And it is Christmas.”

“It is.” Poe’s eyes are comically wide, and she can tell he’s trying hard not to grin too widely, judging by the way he keeps ducking his head. “...A good Christmas.”

“It’s alright.” She walks away, towards her bus stop. “See you around, Dameron.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been planning this AU For a while, and I have a pretty long arc planned out (that involves flangst and romance and danger and lots of adult fun). 
> 
> ...if you all are interested, I'd be happy to start posting that some time in the new year ;)


End file.
